


ambitiosior

by Man_Who_Sold_The_World



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ((despite him being the art student), (and better at art than ben), Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, kylo ben is a TA, little bit of side stormpilot, poe dameron is a pottery instructor, rey is an engineering student, there's so many cliche tropes in here but honestly they just strengthen the work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Man_Who_Sold_The_World/pseuds/Man_Who_Sold_The_World
Summary: Rey Niima is a broke engineering student at The University of Naboo. Ben Solo is an art student, and coincidentally the TA for her required art class. When her best friend and roommate Finn suggests they enter into the school's art fest for the chance to win its grand prize, Rey soon finds herself competing against Ben Solo himself, and for more than the $2,000 promised to the winner.





	ambitiosior

**Author's Note:**

> an amazing commission by the incredible user anakin, thank you so much for letting me run with your story!
    
    
    _ambitiosior_  
    
      
    
    latin  
    
      
    
    meaning: _pretentious_  
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
    

Rey Niima never considered herself an artist, not really. Drawing came easy to her, but that wasn’t because she liked it necessarily. To her, it was a means to an end.

Once she grew out of her ancient history phase, that end was engineering. Rey was good with numbers and even better with her hands, both of which made the boys in her grade furious. Being good with her hands as she was though, they didn’t dare remain furious for long. They mocked her accent, her dirty old clothes, her gaunt features, but they never dared mock her talents. Her talents (and her financial status) were what got her into TUON(The University Of Naboo, or as the freshmen refused to quit calling it TOO-ON). Her first year in engineering was a breeze, and though her professor offered to let her test out of the first year, she knew she’d have to keep that easy A to keep her GPA high enough to retain her scholarship. Keeping her grades in her other classes was hard, Rey having to work _at least_ five days a week to earn enough for her room and board. _Ancient History_ was at least interesting, though she soon discovered the once niche information she held onto like a stuffed bear in comfort was just to beginning, but the seemingly endless writing of her English course, and the monotonous equations of her pre-advanced calc were heaven in comparison to her, unfortunately, _required_ Art I class.

She met the subject of her disdain on her fourth shift at the on-campus coffee shop(one of— at least, there were technically two, but no one ever went to the other one). He had sunglasses on, despite it being overcast, a black messenger bag, black jeans, and charcoal smeared all over his right hand.

Suffice to say, an _artist_.

It wasn’t that Rey didn’t like artists, per se, but this one seemed to radiate pretentiousness. The kind of pretentiousness that usually meant an overly detailed order and a twenty cent tip. He didn’t even bother to look up from his phone until he almost bumped into the counter, Finn peeked out from the back before promptly closing the door.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Rey asks in her sickly-sweet barista tone. The _artist_ glances up, eyes lost for a moment as they flicker from her nametag to her face. “We have a special going on for our activated-charcoal smoothies?” she offers out of necessity.

“Uh _no_.” he seems to nearly roll his eyes at her mandatory offer. “One small black coffee” he said instead after a moment of awkward silence.

“Will that be all?” she asks as she grabs a cup and a sharpee.

“Yeah.” he replies, as though it should be obvious.

“And the name for that would be?” she asks, forcing herself to remain polite even as he didn’t.

“Kylo Ren.” he answers with no hesitation as he took off his sunglasses. She chuckles at that, letting herself slip _this one time_ as she writes _pretentious_ on his cup.

“I’ll have that right out for you,” she assures, glancing up. Her eyes met his and _oh_. He swallows at nothing, steps back from the counter and pulls out his (black) wallet.

“How much?” he asks, not breaking his gaze.

Without looking down to the screen, she replies “$1.76” he passes her his card, their eyes finally breaking contact as she looks down to run it through the system. She pushes his card and receipts across the counter and watches for a moment as he signs his receipt and slides it back. “It’ll be just a minute” she assures, taking the cup that still said _pretentious_ and turning away from him to fill it from the pot. “Do you want any creams or sugars?” she asks as she turns back, finding him waiting for her at the pick-up counter. The entire coffee shop seems eerily silent. He spots the writing on the cup and smirks.

“No, I drink it black.” he replies, and Rey can’t help but show her disgust. As broke as she’s always been, properly done coffee had been something of a treat for her. He takes a large swig from the cup and drops a ten into the tip jar before turning to leave.

“You know, if you like black so much, you should really try our activated-charcoal smoothies.” She offers, instantly regretting her statement as he turns, blackened hand holding the cup she wrote _pretentious_ on.

“I deal with charcoal enough as it is,” he replies, the ghost of a grin evident in his expression. She sighs in relief, and once he was gone, Finn crept out from the back.

“Why were you hiding?” Rey asks.

“I went to highschool for a few years with him, he’s not fun to be around.” Finn answers, his words almost justifying her actions.

“I wrote _pretentious_ on his cup,” Rey admitted, glancing over to her friend. Finn snorts in amusement.

“You’re not _wrong_ ,” Finn assures.

“He left a ten dollar tip on a two dollar coffee,” Rey then adds.

“His parents are rich. Just be glad you’ll never have to see him again.”

“What makes you say that?” Rey asks.

“He hates this place, only comes here when the coffee in his classroom is out.” Finn replies.

“Wait, he’s a _professor_?” Rey continues.

“TA.” Finn corrects.

“For what class?” Rey demands.

“Art I.” Finn replies.
    
    
      ****
    

Rey is a goddamn mess when shuffles into her _8 am_ Art I class. She doesn’t know exactly _why_ she thought it’d be a good idea to take an _8 am_ class, but she did, and she’s paying for it.

Luckily for her, Finn was working the counter that morning, and insisted on giving her extra shots of espresso and a handful of pastries too misshapen to sell. She sits in the front, the only seats left in the small room, and slowly naws at the pastries as she winces at the bitter coffee. She tears the pastries into pieces as she eats them, and sketches with her mechanical pencil in between bites. She’s exhausted, such to the point that she completely forget the _artist_ is going to be there until she hears his voice. They’re about ten minutes into the class, and Professor Holdo had already introduced her TA and was letting him answer the students’ questions.

“Are we gonna learn how to draw?” a squeaky-voiced teen asks.

“You should already know how to draw if you’re taking this class,” He replies, and that bugs her like nothing else.

“You don’t have to be an _artist_ to appreciate or create _art_.” Rey mutters, and it’s only after the room falls silent that she realizes that she said it louder than she had intended.

“Pray, do tell us, Miss Niima, how someone who creates _art_ can not be an _artist_?” he asks, and Rey can hear his breathing as he leans against her desk.

“Well, they can just be _pretentious_ , for one,” she answers, and he almost _chuckles_ at that.

“Do you create _art_ Miss Niima?” he asks after a moment to compose himself.

“I consider my creations to be more a product of _science_ and _reason_ than of _art_.”

“One in the same,” he reasons softly, much too softly to be making a point to the class.

“Says the man with five o’clock shadow at eight in the morning, I don’t think I’d exactly take my lessons in _reason_ from _you_.” She stares at him for a long moment before Professor Holdo clears her throat, reigning in her unruly TA.

“We aren’t here to scare freshmen out of pursuing art with elitism now, _Ben_ .” she warns, and _Ben’s_ eyes flicker to Rey’s lazy sketches for a moment before standing at his full height and walking back to his spot beside Holdo’s desk.

Rey ignores him for the rest of the class. It’s the first day, so really all they’re doing is talking _about_ the class, which is fine by her. Gives her more time to think as she absent-mindedly doodles in the margins of her notebook. There are no bells, but Holdo speaks until the clock ticks to 9:30, and the entirety of the class seemingly rises all at once. The professor cuts herself off as the freshmen file out, and Rey moves slowly as she packs her things, still bone-achingly tired. She doesn’t even notice him approach until she tries to pull her notebook into her bag and finds his hand on it, eyes scanning over the page.

“These are really good,” he mutters.

“They’re nothing,” she counters, and he winces at that. She yanks the notebook from his loose grasp.

“Where’d you get that accent from?” he then asks, looking up to her. “Sounds almost... _pretentious_.”

“I learned it in the British Foster Care system,” she answers honestly as she tightens the straps on her bag. He grimaces at that, pulling back as though out of shame. She backs away from him until she was almost to the door, and she swore she could feel him watching her as she left.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

The moment Rey enters her dorm, Finn is waving a bright pink flyer in her face.

“Dear god Finn, _what_?” she asks as she takes the paper, plopping down on her bed.

“Hey you know how we’re broke?” he asks as she glances over it.

“Yes, _unfortunately_ .” she replies, eyes scanning over the words _80th Annual Art Fest_.

“And how you’re really good at drawing at I’m good at pottery?” he continues.

“You only became _good at pottery_ after you starting dating the instructor.” Rey teases, glancing up to him with a tired smile.

“Untrue, I have natural talent... _anyway_ , rich people from Connecticut are coming next month to judge art.” Finn explains.

“Cool?” Rey mutters.

“First prize gets a $2000 grant and we get to keep all the money from whatever we manage to sell even if we lose.” Finn continues, and _that_ catches Rey’s attention.

“Do you think anyone would buy _my_ sketches?” Rey asks in astonishment as she looks over the flyer.

“Rey, they’re rich people from Connecticut, _of course_ they’re going to buy your sketches. You exude bohemia.” Finn assures.

“That’s just because I’m broke.” Rey scoffs.

“ _I_ know that, _you_ know that, but _they_ don’t.” Finn counters. “Booths cost $40, but we can share one and split the cost. Besides, I’m almost certain we’ll make more than that in sales alone.”

“Yeah maybe for you, you get all of your clay for free. I’m gonna have to buy supplies.” Rey huffs, the entirety of the situation suddenly feeling impossible.

“Just ask your art professor,” Finn suggests. “Poe’s worked with her before, and trust me they don’t get along, but she’s just been _dying_ to buy new materials for her department. Only problem is the professor before her bulk ordered everything, and she can’t buy new stuff until the old stuff is gone, and none of her actual _art students_ want to use any of it because it’s all old, but _you_ would and _she_ would be happy to get rid of as much as you’ll take.”

“Well thank the stars for scholastic bureaucracy.” Rey sighs, lying back on her uncomfortable twin bed. “Alright, I’m in, but I can’t get you the money until payday.”

“Sweet, cause I already got our booth.” Finn sighs in relief, Rey groaning to herself and rolling her eyes.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

She’s more awake for her class the next day, she was lucky enough not have to work that night. She got in early enough to seat herself in the back, and almost sighs in relief when she doesn’t immediately see _Ben_ . That sigh is promptly _stopped_ , however, when he walks in. Still all black, though she can tell the outfit’s changed, and he’s _shaved_ , for _whatever_ reason. His eyes scan the room until they come upon her, and she looks away out of spite. She could swear he was about to say something, but at that moment, Professor Holdo enters and begins her class.

He focuses on her the entire time, and though she finds it strange, it doesn’t feel _creepy_. She wonders what he’d do if she stared back, but stops herself from doing so.

When the class ends, she sticks around, waiting around as he spoke softly with the professor. After a few moments, he glances up to her and disappears into the professor’s office. Rey meanders over to the professor, glancing to the clock to be sure of her time.

“Professor Holdo? I had heard that you were trying to get rid of some materials, and I was wondering if I could borrow some?” Rey asks politely.

“Borrow?” Holda asks incredulously. “You can _have_ it all, what do you need?” she asks, gesturing for Rey to follow while leading her into the supply closet.

There’s dust _everywhere_ . Boxes of charcoal untouched like fine aged wine, cartons of pencils barely opened, stacks of thick, _good_ , paper.

“I should have brought a bag…” Rey mutters in astonishment.

“Here,” Holdo begins, pulling out an empty box and dumping out the dust before handing it to Rey. “You can take anything that looks old, I’ve been trying to get rid of this stuff for years.

“Wow...yeah, thanks,” Rey mumbles as she carefully begins placing cartons of pencils and boxes of charcoal in the box, filling in the empty space with paper. Once the box was full(and almost too heavy to carry, though Rey wouldn’t complain), Rey nodding a thanks and left, determined to get the box to her dorm before her next class as not to carry it around all day. Just as she nears the door, _Ben_ exits the office and spots her. She stops in her tracks as he approaches.

“You know all that stuff is _junk_ , right?” he asks, tone perplexed,

“It’s _free_ and it’ll do and _why do you care_?” she counters, adjusted her grasp a bit.

“You-” he stops himself. “-r art deserves better than charcoal that’s older than you are and paper thick enough to be classified as cardboard.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about _my art_. You know I’m an engineering major, right?” she asks, arms growing fatigued.

“Yeah, _I know_ —” silence hangs in the air uncomfortably for a moment, but he continues just as she’s about to turn and leave. “You’re good, but you’re gonna have a hard time working with actual materials.” he warns.

“I thought you said this all was junk?” Rey counters in annoyance.

“It is, but charcoal is difficult enough to work with, even when it isn’t nearly 40 years old and ready to just dissipate into dust.” he shuffles closer, and Rey has to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “You need a teacher,” he tempts. Her eyes flicker to his mouth, keen on watching his lips as he speaks.

She doesn’t look away from them when she begins “Unless you know more about engineering than I do, _fuck off_.” she steps back, almost smiling to herself as his lips form a sneer in his shock.
    
    
      ****
    

Rey enters her dorm with her eyes guarded. She knows Poe is there today, and doesn’t want to spoil her nearly juvenile giddiness at making _Ben_ sneer in shock. The pair of them are sitting on Finn’s bed, Poe’s arms around him as Finn types something on his laptop.

“Heard you’re doing the art fair,” Poe begins as Rey sets her things down.

“Yeah, it was Finn’s idea, we could really use the money.” Rey replies, plopping down on her bed and sighing.

“So I’ve heard,” Poe mutters, nuzzling into Finn’s neck. “You know I could help you out…” he whispers to Finn.

“You’re my boyfriend, not my sugar daddy.” Finn insists, and Rey can’t help snort.

“If we were married, it wouldn’t be a big deal.” Poe counters, glancing up at Rey as she laughs to herself. “What, it wouldn’t!”

“You’re right, I just never thought I’d hear the words _‘sugar daddy’_ come out of Finn’s mouth.” She sits up, looking to the two of them, something tugging at her from deep within. “How long have you two been together anyway?” she asks.

“What, six months?” Poe asks, Finn’s eyes remaining on the screen of his laptop for a few more moments before finally looking up to his partner.

“Six months since our first date, nine since we met.” Finn answers without thought.

“It took you three months to get together?” Rey asks incredulously.

“That one’s not my fault, this one over here— ” Poe begins, gesturing to Finn. “Wouldn’t stop talking about you, I thought he was in love with you.”

“I was and am,” Finn replies wryly. “She’s my best friend, of course I love her.”

“Thanks Finn, love you too.” Rey chuckles, though the declaration warms her heart.

“Speaking of love, when are you gonna start dating someone?” Poe asks. “I want group dates!”

“I can just third wheel it,” Rey offers. “Besides, I’m too broke to date right now, and I honestly don’t have the time to be nice to someone long enough for them to want to date me.”

“Bullshit, I’m setting you up,” Poe insists. “Finn, don’t you know that mechanic girl...Rose?” Poe asks. “She’s really sweet, you’d like her.”

“I’m certain I would if you’re referring to her as _‘that mechanic girl’_.” Rey sighs. “But I’m poor, so dates are a no,” She insists, glancing to her phone and groaning at the time. “Finn…”

“What?” he asks absent-mindedly as he types.

“We have a shift in thirty minutes,” she groans. “Poe, get out unless you wanna see me undress, and then immediately put on black khakis and a polo.”

“Hmm, gross—” Poe replies, kissing Finn’s cheek and rising. “Khakis are disgusting.”

“Yeah, I know, uniform.” Rey huffs, forcing herself to get up.
    
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
    

Finn and Rey are an hour into their shift when two people enter at once. One is short and covered in grease, and the other is _the artist_.

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about that old thing,” Ben, no, _Kylo Ren_ (he is here to buy coffee, after all) insists as the two approach the counter.

“I’m telling you Solo, working on that old thing was a learning experience like no other.” She replies.

“Yeah well…” he glances to the counter, ghost of a smile apparent as he spots Rey. “Thanks for tuning up the TIE, I just haven’t had the time lately.”

“No problem, I need the work hours to get my certification anyway.” The woman glances from him to the counter, spotting Finn behind Rey and smiling. “Finn!” the woman announces, stepping forward and grinning.

“Rose!” Finn replies with equal excitement. “We were just talking about you, this is my friend Rey.” he continues, gesturing to Rey. Rey stares at the mechanic for a moment before coming to her senses.

“Sorry, when Poe mentioned a mechanic, I didn’t imagine someone so…” _cute_ “Small” Rey says, immediately regretting it.

“Yeah I get that a lot, Finn’s talked about you too. When he mentioned an engineering major, I didn’t imagine someone so...British?” Rose replies, then glancing over the menu.

“Yeah I get that a lot, what can I get you?” Rey then asks.

“Oh, I’m getting it.” _the artist_ pipes up, looking as though he isn’t sure where he belongs in this dynamic.

“What can I get you, _Kylo_?” Rey mutters.

“Oh my god, do you order coffee with your artist name? That’s so pretentious!” Rose chuckles, _the artist_ side-eyeing her until she quiets herself.

“Two black coffees and two of whatever pastries you have leftover.” he says softly, almost looking mortified.

“I’ll have it right— ” Rey looks behind her and spots the empty coffee pot and sighs. “It’ll be just a few minutes” she then adds, glancing back to them. “We’ll need to brew a new pot.”

“That’s fine” the artist mutters softly. Rey turns then, heading to the back, Finn following.

“So what do you think?” Finn asks.

“She’s funny, I like her.” Rey replies, grabbing a bag of pre-measured grounds.

“Want me to give her your number?” he asks.

“No, I wanna do that cliche thing where I write it on her cup.” Rey replies, eyes bright with mischief. “But I can’t give it to her, that would be too obvious, so you have to.”

“Already done,” Finn agrees excitedly.

“You have good taste in friends.” Rey chuckles as she glances at Rose through the crack in the door.

“I know.” he replies.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

Rey has the coffee brewed in a few minutes, writing on the cups as she waits for it to finish. One reads _pretentious:)_ , the other her number. She bags up the pastries separately and hands the full coffee cups to Finn as _Kylo Ren_ pays, leaving another $10 tip. Finn passes them out, and Rey waves as Rose and _Kylo Ren_ leave. _Kylo_ looks back before exiting, looking at Rey oddly and smiling before finally leaving.
    
    
      
    
      
    
      
    
    

Rey feels surprisingly awake in her next art class. They’re discussing ancient works, and Rey’s innate, obscure knowledge is finally becoming useful as she answers question after question, and even _corrects_ Professor Holdo at one point. The professor doesn’t mind though, delighted that _someone_ is taking an actual interest in the class. When their time ends, Rey stays behind, talking to Holdo until she politely insists on ending their conversation, having a meeting to get to. Rey stands their, still giddy, for a moment.

“So, you were an _Indiana Jones_ kind of kid when you were young, weren’t you?” Ben asks.

“Yeah...so what if I was?” she asks in return.

“I’m surprised you aren’t majoring in archeology is all.” he replies.

“There isn’t a lot of money in archeology, and no amount of possible Harrison Fords would make being broke for the rest of my life worth it.” She confesses, and he chuckles.

“So is that your type? Part-college professor, part-rogue?” he asks, and though it feels like flirting, she doesn’t actually mind.

“No, more like part-stable employment, part-leather whip” she counters, and he swallows at nothing, almost blushing.

“One in the same I’d say.” he mumbles.

“I’d disagree,” she replies.

“Hey, are you doing that art fest?” he asks. “Tons of people are coming, I’m sure you’d do well.”

“Actually, I am.” she replies surely.

“Do you wanna share a booth? I’ve got plenty of space, my stuff’s too big for a table anyway.” He offers.

“I’m already sharing a booth with my roommate, but...thanks.” she pauses. “I’ve...got...another class to get to, so…” she trails off, standing there for a moment, almost expecting him to say something more, and he does.

“Right, freshmen, classes, busy…” he mutters, still staring at her as though she were the answer to a question he didn’t ask. “So there’s this art show they’re having in the city after the festival and my mom’s running it and she gave me two tickets and she’s going to give me shit about it if I show up alone, so I was wondering if you’d come with me?” he explains.

“You want me to be your plus one so your mother won’t ask you why you don’t have a date at an art event she’s hosting? How flattering…” she scoffs as though he’s challenged her. “Why would I want to spend an entire evening surrounded by snobs?”

“No, it’s just...I just—” he begins before she interrupts him.

“You know what, I’ll make you a deal.” she offers, and his eyes light up at that. “If you can win the art fest the school is throwing, I’ll be your plus one at the art show your mom’s throwing. Hell, I’ll even pretend that I don’t think you’re pretentious the entire time.”

“You’re serious?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t” she replies surely, and he doesn’t seem cocky when he offers his hand, but genuinely enthused. “What?”

“Shake on it, or it’s not official.” he replies.

“What, do I need to cut my palm and spit in it too?” she asks, almost rolling her eyes.

“No, it’s just— ” she takes his hand before he can continue. Her grip is strong as she shakes it. She pulls her hand back quickly, feeling a kind of electricity between to two of them. She knew what petty rivalry and competition felt like, and whatever _this_ was, wasn’t it. He holds his hand close to him, as though he doesn’t want anything to taint what just occurred, and stares at her as though she’s done something incredible.
    
    
      ****
    

She walks away.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

Rey drops her stuff to the ground when she enters her dorm, and immediately pulls out her charcoal and paper.

“Finally decided to start working on your stuff for the art fest?” Finn asks, eyes on his laptop.

“Yeah, finally got some inspiration. How are the pots coming along?” she asks as she begins to sketch, what yet, she isn’t sure.

“Great, Poe’s firing them today and I’ll glaze them tomorrow.” he replies, looking to her as she works and chuckling. “Wow, that stuff really is old. You get anymore dust on you and you’ll get miner’s lung.”

“Ugh, it’s everywhere.” she sighs, moving from sitting on her bed to sitting at the desk as to save her sheets. “Ben was right.” she mutters, coughing, but making sure to keep from getting any spit on the sketch.

“Ben I-Only-Wear-Black Ben?” Finn asks, looking to her curiously.

“Yeah, he told me all of this was junk when I got it.” she replies.

“It is garbage,” he reasons, watching as she absent-mindedly sketches.

“The garbage will do,” she counters, focusing on getting the detail of her sketch down and frowning as her hand smudges a line.

“You know, there’s this spray you’re gonna have to get if you want the lines to stay crisp after you’re done.” Finn advises, glancing to her. “Who are you drawing anyway?” he asks. She sits up, looking it for more than just the details for a moment.

“No one, just a warm up sketch.” she answers, crumbling the paper with the eyes of _Ben Solo_ up and tossing it into the trash. “Hey, do you mind if I do a few sketches of you to sell?” she asks.

“Not at all, just make me look good.” he replies with a grin.

“Well it’d be impossible to not to,” she replies, pushing down a realization that hit her like a brick. A brick that weighed down like a pit in her stomach. “Here, just keep typing. I really like the look you get when you’re writing a bio-med paper.”

“They’re the worst and I hate them,” Finn moans.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

Rey spends the next few weeks coming into her art class late, and leaving early. She looks up rarely, focusing on writing notes she doesn’t need so she doesn’t accidentally sketch _him_ again. It’s almost _embarrassing_ , the way she goes out of her way to avoid making eye contact, to avoid speaking to him. She thinks about _his eyes_ a lot. The way they follow her, their warmness, the way they seemingly only brighten for her. She wonders if he genuinely didn’t want to show up at some _pretentious_ event alone, or if he just wanted to have an excuse to ask her out. She wonders why Rose hasn’t texted or called, and is a little relieved that she hasn’t. Rey doesn’t want to drag anyone else into whatever’s going on with her, so she pretends that nothing is. Rey doesn’t have many memories of her parents, but in the ones she retains, never does she recall her father looking at her mother like _Ben Solo_ looks at her. She looks back on her first meeting with him, and wonders if he’s ever looked as anyone else as though he was starving.

Rey sketches as she tries to solve the inner puzzle that is her feelings. _May as well pass the time_ . She sketches Finn, Poe, the two of them together(those come out with happier expressions), buildings on campus, the views from certain windows. Finn says that the college ones will sell like gold, that they’ll make rich alumni nostalgic. Rey hopes he’s right. She goes to work, and spots _Ben_ in passing. Sometimes he looks in for a moment, but never does he enter. She’s got about twenty rough pieces done and a few with more detail when Finn pesters her to get the spray to preserve them.

“You know, with as quick as you can work, you should offer to do portraits at our booth.” he suggests.

“You think anyone will bite?” she asks.

“I think you’ll end up getting swarmed. People love personalized stuff, makes me _almost_ regret doing pottery, hard to do that the day of.” he replies.

“You’re right,” she glances to her phone for the time. “I think I’m gonna catch the seven o’clock train to the city, go and get that spray.” she mutters.

“Oh! Yeah, hey if I give you money, will pick up some of the good granola bars?” he asks.

“Sure, just send me a list.” she agrees, Finn pulling out a wrinkled ten and handing it to her.

“I’ll send it in a minute, let me turn this essay in, it’s do at midnight, but you know how shitty the WiFi is.” he explains. Rey takes the bill and grabs her jacket and purse.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

It’s raining by the time she makes it into the city, but she doesn’t mind. Despite it being England, it never rained in Jakku. She pulls her hood up, guarding her purse from the downpour, and keeps near to buildings to avoid as much as she can. The train was late, and the shop she had in mind closes at eight, so she ends up bursting in from the rain when she arrives. The shop looks mostly empty, and Rey sighs in relief. She doesn’t meander, wanting to get what she needs and leave before they close. She finds the spray Finn was talking about, a _fixative_ , and contemplates the price as she looks over the large canvases. It’s been hard getting precise details with the scale she’s been working on, but she gets an idea as she looks over the array of canvases. She spots one with a red tag stuck on, the corner of it halfway torn from the frame. Rey grinned, the huge canvas being half-priced for such a small, fixable, bit of damage. Rey reaches for it, tucking the thing under her arm as her phone rings. She stares at the screen for a moment, not recognizing the number, but picks it up regardless.

“Whom is this?” she asks as she looks over the easy-dry clay.

“ _Pretentious_ , you gave me your number,” he replies, Rey instantly able to recognize _his_ voice.

“When?” she asks as she turns an aisle and looks over watercolor sets.

“You wrote it on my coffee the other day.” He replies in confusion, and Rey can’t help but laugh.

“Kriffing Finn,” she chuckles once more, and even finds the mix-up somewhat amusing. “Why are you calling anyway?” she then asks.

“Well I figured that since we’re doing this whole contest thing, it wouldn’t be fair if I showed up with some thousand-dollars-in-paint-church-ceiling-esque-painting and you just had some charcoal sketch—” he began before being interrupted by Rey’s scoff.

“ _Some charcoal sketch_ , now I thought that _you_ said I was good?” She counters wryly.

“You are, my point still stands though. What are you doing for your entrance piece?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know _art class teaching assistant_ ” she teases, looking at the price of a pastel set.

“You don’t have to tell me _exactly_ what you’re doing, just what supplies you’re working with.” he explains. “And... _maybe_ what kind of work it is.”

Rey sighs, chuckling to herself before speaking. “I’m doing a portrait with charcoal on a white canvas, sealed in with fixative. There, _happy_?” she asks, and she can almost sense him smile.

“Yeah...I am.” he replies. Rey feels a strange sensation, and when she turns, she finds him at the end of her aisle, black t-shirt covered with dried paint. She end the call and shoves her phone into her back pocket.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, approaching slowly.

“Buying stuff, I’m the art major, what are _you_ doing here?” he counters, grinning down at her.

“Buying supplies for the art fest, I’m the one who suggested a competition.” she replies.

“Who are you doing for your portrait?” he asks, looking over her canvas.

“Haven’t decided yet. Why, who are you?” she asks in return.

“I already know who I’m doing, but I’m not telling.” he teases, lightly pulling the canvas away from her. “You know, they sell ones that aren’t damaged, right?”

“I know, this one’s half-off though.” she reasons. “Besides, I can just fix it. I’m good at fixing things.”

“That why you were trying to give your number to Rose?” he asks.

“That and she was cute, and roasted you without being prompted… How do you know her anyway?” Rey asks, Ben tucking the canvas under his arm as they walk to the register.

“She’s a friend of my father. She’s been working on cars her entire life. She’s getting her certification and needed the working hours, so I had her work on my TIE.” he explains.

“Oh humble-bragging are we?” she asks as she sets the cans of fixative on the counter, pulling the canvas from under his arm and setting it there too.

“No, you asked a question, I answered...honestly.” he replies. The cashier rings her up, and Rey counts out her total in cash down to the penny. The cashier puts the canvas in the biggest bag they have, but it still isn’t big enough to cover it entirely. The rain continues to pour outside, and Rey waits as he pays for his brushes and sponges. “How’d you get here anyway?” he asks.

“Took the train and walked.” she replies frankly, and he glances outside for a moment before looking back to her. His eyes, brown like good tea, bore into her, though not uncomfortably.

“Do you want a ride back to campus?” he asks.

“I...I would, but I promised to buy granola bars for Finn.” she replies after a moment of wordlessness.

“Do you want a ride to a corner store then back to campus?” he then asks.

“Yes.” she replies simply.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

Ben holds her canvas to his chest, his coat being big enough to keep it from getting wet, as they make a run for his car. City parking is a disaster, so they have to sprint a full three blocks to get back to it. Despite Ben’s legs being longer, Rey outruns him. She plops down in his passenger seat the moment she reaches his car, his fab unlocking the door once he was close enough. He sets her canvas in the back and watches her aptly as she begins to laugh.

“We—” a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure we passed a bodega on the way here.” she continues to laugh at their situation, the coldness of the rain not quite yet seeping in. He chuckles a bit with her, eyes not leaving her face for a long moment before looking away in nervousness.

“If I had thought of it, I’d have gone and gotten the car for you.” he mutters, and she shakes her head at him.

“No, no it’s fine… I like the rain.” she assures.

“Me too,” he agrees, then turning to start the car. “I had really bad allergies as a kid, the rain would always wash all the pollen out of the air. I didn’t go out a lot when I was a kid, never really had friends.”

“I grew up in England for the most part, tiny little town called Jakku, and despite the climate, it never rained. Just...always weighted grey clouds in the sky, never releasing their water. Everything was so tense, like a string pulled so taught it’s about to break…” she confesses in turn. “I’ve never told anyone about that…”

“I won’t…” he assures as he pulls away, driving slowly, on the lookout for an open bodega. “You know, I had the kind of feeling when I was a kid too...my parents called it anxiety.”

“They were probably right, but foster kids don’t get to see therapists.” she replies, jaw feeling tense as she speaks.

“Yeah well, I had one, they can only help you as much as you’re willing to help yourself. I...wasn’t.” he admits, looking to her in earnest as he pulls up in front of a bodega. “Do you want me to go in with you?” he asks.

“No, I’ll be fine by myself.” she replies, pulling Finn’s ten from her purse and setting the bag on the floor.

“I’ll wait for you then.” he decides.

“I won’t be long.” she promises.
    
    
      ****
    

Scouring the shelves for Finn’s granola bars gives her time to think. Almost _forces_ her to consider _why_ she would be so open with someone she most commonly refers to as _pretentious_. She wonders if maybe that judgement is surface level at best, wonders if maybe all the black and art-talk covers something.

 _He’s as open as a wound with you_.

With that, she finds Finn’s granola bars, and grabs four boxes. She sets them on the counter, doesn’t take a bag, and takes the change, but no receipt. She climbs into the TIE and shoves the boxes into her purse.

“I’m glad you don’t have leather seats.” she mutters as she buckles in.

“Oh never, they’re useless, need upkeep.” he replies with a comfortable grin. “Need anything else before we head back?” he asks warmly.

“No, nothing. I’ve got everything I need.” She replies contently, the cold of the rain finally settling in. He notices and blasts the heat as he pulls away.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asks as he drives.

“Weird stuff, not really anything on the radio.” she replies.

“Pretentious.” he mutters, laughing as she cackles at him.

“I don’t know, Bowie’s popular and I like him.” she then offers.

“Done.” he agrees, flicking through albums on his phone before picking _Five Years_ and setting it to random. The music settles into the background as Ben pulls onto the highway. “In Holdo’s class...have you been trying to avoid me?” he asks after a few songs. Rey sucks in a breath and forces herself not to look away.

“Yes.” she admits.

“Did I creep you out?” he then asks.

“No… I was just processing.” she answers honestly.

“Processing what?” he continues.

“When I went to draw for the festival, if I didn’t think about it, I’d draw _you_.” she admits, and he sucks in a breath.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone has something their hand goes to when they’re drawing.” he assures.

“When I was little, they’d tell us to draw a dream we had. Other kids would draw the stars, firefighters, jungles...I’d always draw my parents. I had hoped they’d come back for me someday, but they didn’t…” she confesses, and it’s as though the oppressive clouds over Jakku finally dropped. The windshield wipers push the rain off the glass, Rey dries her tears.

“Let the past die, kill it if you have to...that’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.” He says after a moment. Time doesn’t seem to flow normally, and Rey swears it’s only been a minute since they were in the city, but now they’re back on campus. He pulls up to the entrance of the student complex. “Which building are you in?” he asks. The mundane question seems ridiculous after his loaded suggestion.

“I’ll just walk from here.” Rey decides, grabbing her canvas from the back. The clouds are just now making their way over the campus, and she can feel the tension in the air.

“You don’t have to, I’ll drive you—”

“I know.” she snaps, grabbing her things and shutting the door.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

Finn’s out when she opens her dorm door, he left a note, and Rey leaves his granola bars on his bed. She pops open a can of the fixative, opens a window, and sprays down what she’s already drawn. It nearly chokes her, but she doesn’t stop until she’s sealed what progress she has made. She sets those pieces aside and props her canvas up on her window. She takes a wall tack, and sticks it into the loose canvas, attaching it to the frame. She starts with a rough sketch in light pencil, and the expression doesn’t feel right. Too aggressive, like a wolf separated from its pack. She tries again, and the eyes are too sad, they remind her of her younger self. She takes the canvas down, looks to the time, and decides to go to bed.
    
    
      ****
    

Maybe it’d come to her in the morning.
    
    
      ****
    

All men dream, but not equally. Rey dreams in vivid washes of color, beautiful abstract backgrounds and painfully detailed foregrounds. She turns her head, looking around her, and meets eyes with _him_.

“Who are you really?” she asks.

“Who do you want me to be?” he asks in return, and she jolts awake. The image comes to her, pounding at the forefront of her thoughts, and she puts it to canvas. It’s quick, but not rough or sloppy, just fast as she tries to put every detail of it to canvas before it disappears. She keeps drawing, absentmindedly passing hours and using charcoal after charcoal. When she finally finishes, she sprays the whole thing down as a safety measure against herself. She stares at it, and is deathly afraid that if she hadn’t sprayed it down, she’d spend the next few days before the contest trying to fix every single little imperfection. She looks to the clock, _4 am_ , and goes back to bed.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

She sleeps through her art class.
    
    
      ****
    

Professor Holdo notices, but doesn’t say anything, just shakes her shoulder in passing a few minutes before the class ends. Holdo knows that tired look, the art fest is tomorrow, and Rey’s face is smudged with charcoal. Rey drags herself through the rest of her classes and forces herself to do a few more sketches before bed.
    
    
      ****
    

She’s been tired all day, but sleep doesn’t come. She’s just showered, so she doesn’t want to go anywhere near the charcoal until the festival. She stares at her clock, and it stares back. _1 am_ She pulls out her phone, scrolls through her recent calls, and texts a contactless number that she _somehow_ now recognizes.

 _Why do you go by Kylo Ren professionally?_ She waits a reply with bated breath, the little dots on his jumping up and down for a few moments before she gets a facetime call. She answers it, glancing over to Finn’s empty bed, and switches on a light.

“How’d you get my number?” he asks, face pale and awkward in the cold lighting of whatever studio he’s in.

“You called me, remember?” she replies, and he sighs, setting his phone on something and rubbing his face. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“The art festival is tomorrow, shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asks, hands coming from his charcoal-smeared face.

“Same could be said of you, answer my question _Ben_.” she insists. He’s silent for a few moments, gazing at her tired face through the screen and sighing.

“My mother and uncle are pretty famous for their work...my agent Snoke said it’d be better if I removed myself from them professionally.” he explains.

“So he made you go by _Kylo Ren_?” she asks incredulously.

“He scouted me when I was still in highschool, I picked it myself.” he justifies.

“How young were you when you met him?” she asks, and he looks ashamed to answer.

“Well, he ran in the same circles as my mom, so I don’t even remember when I first met him. My mother didn’t like him, but he got my art out there...I’m only still here because I’ve already put so much money into this degree.” he admits. “You should be getting to sleep…” he insists tiredly.

“I will just—Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Does he own the rights to your art?” she asks, jaw feeling tense.

“How did you know?” he mutters.

“Can you just— your piece for our contest, don’t let him have it?” she asks hopefully.

“Never.” he assures, peering into his screen as though he could really see her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” she promises, he sucks in a breath, nodding to her.
    
    
      ****
    

She ends the call.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

She’s surprisingly awake as she helps carry Finn’s glazed pots to their booth. She sets the big ones on the ground, the little ones occupying his side of the table.

“Thanks for your help, are you okay? You look a little tired.” he asks softly.

“Just didn’t sleep last night,” she replies. “Hey, why don’t you have Poe bring us some coffee since he seems physically incapable of helping actually move the pots.” she suggests, Poe seemingly popping up out of nowhere with a drink carrier.

“I moved those pots in and out of the kiln four times, you can move them once.” he chuckles, looking over Rey’s sketches. “Nice, nice…” he compliments, looking over the ones of him and Finn. “I might have to buy one of these myself...which one are you actually entering?” he asks.

“I’m not unveiling it until the judges arrive, I want surprise to work in my favor.” she replies.

“Mysterious, nice…” Poe replies. “Well, Finn, I’m going to go look around and buy things I don’t need, call me if you guys want more coffee.” he decides, walking away. Rey glances to her phone and braces herself as the time turns from _9:59_ to _10:00_.
    
    
      ****
    

Rey isn’t _swarmed_ with people wanting quick portraits of themselves, but she does get a steady enough feed of them to keep her hands busy as her mind wanders elsewhere. She sells out of her sketches of the campus, and Rose stops by and buys one of her sketches of Finn and Poe. Judging starts at noon, and the two hours she spends doing quick sketches couldn’t go by faster.

She looks around for a minute, trying to find _Ben_ in the sea of booths. The judging isn’t anything too elaborate, just two men and a woman walking around and looking at each contest piece. When they arrive at her and Finn’s table, one of their eyes is drawn instantly to one of Finn’s smaller pots.

“Oh that would be perfect for one of my cacti,” the older man comments, the woman beside him rolling her eyes.

“Luke, try and not buy anything until we’ve made our decision.” The woman comments, the man on her other side chuckling deeply in a way that feels familiar to Rey. “What do you have for us dear?” the woman asks, looking over Rey’s other sketches. Rey observes the woman for a moment, seeing in her all-too familiar eyes. She pulls the canvas from beneath the table, taking the cloth off it and presenting it to them. “Oh, it’s beautiful...I haven’t seen him smile like this in years!” The woman exclaims, reaching out to touch it before pulling her hand back.

“How much is it?” the gruffled man beside her asks.

“Oh, I haven’t— ”

“Han, what did I just say to Luke?” the woman asks, nearly _cooing_ over the portrait. “We are coming back for this one though, it’s wonderfully done.” the woman decides. “So did you and Ben plan this?” she asks.

“Plan what?” Rey asks.

“Having a matching set of pieces?” The woman elaborates. “His entrance piece, it’s of you.”

“That...that wasn’t planned.” Rey confesses, and the woman laughs.

“Of course it wasn’t, the best things in life aren’t.” she regards the canvas for a moment more before dragging herself away from it. “Thank you dear, we’ll be back after we announce the results.”
    
    
      ****
    

Rey just nods, still somewhat confused.
    
    
      ****
    

She pulls out her phone and checks for any notifications. Upon finding none, she begins to type.

_What did you do for your portrait?_
    
    
      ****
    

She waits for an answer and isn’t given one. After a few minutes, the judges head back to their table. The woman taps the mic, everyone’s attention drawn to her.

“Hi...Hi, thank you all for coming here today. I always love getting invited back to see so much wonderful work. There will be three prizes today, first, second, and third place. Uh, in third place we have...Dopheld Mitaka’s sculpture entitled SKB,” she announces, the small, pale student half-running from his booth to accept his prize(an envelope with $200 and a ribbon). The crowd gives him light applause before quieting down as the woman speaks again. As she begins to talk, Rey’s phone vibrates, her attention immediately drawn to it.

_The only thing that mattered enough to make art of_

She reads his reply, and has to read it again to make sure she’s seeing it right.

_Just...you_
    
    
      ****
    

She’s in the middle of deciphering _that_ when Finn shakes her arm.

“Rey...Rey!” he calls, gesturing towards the judge’s tables. “You’re in first.” he explains, pushing her forward as he carefully carries her canvas to the platform for her. Rey accept the trophy, holding her canvas as someone snaps a picture of her with the judges. Once they’re broken from the pose, the gruffled one, _Han_ , speaks.

“Alright kid, how much?” he asks.

“Oh, I don’t...I wasn’t planning on selling it.” Rey begins to explain.

“Well, you’ll still be able to see it when you and Ben come visit us in the city.” The woman assures.

“Me and Ben...we aren’t...who are you all?” she asks.

“Oh, he didn’t even tell her.” the woman rolls her eyes. “I’m Leia, his mother, that’s Han, his father, and that’s—”

“Luke, I’m his uncle. You have great potential.” Luke insists. “What are you majoring in?” he asks.

“Engineering.” she replies.

“I knew it.” he chuckles.

“I’m offering five-hundred.” Han announces after a moment.

“Yeah that’s fine...would any of you happen to know where your son is right now?” Rey asks.

“Probably hiding in his studio.” Luke scoffs.

“Cool, here.” She begins, handing her canvas to Han. “Just make the check out to Rey Niima and give it my roommate, he’s the one with all the pots.” she insists, shoving the envelope she was given earlier into her back pocket and stepping down from the platform.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

It doesn’t take her as long as it _should_ to find him. The tension hanging in the air from the rain not yet passed over the campus seems to dissipate when she finally finds him.

“Hey, you didn’t stick around.” she begins as she closes the door to the small studio.

“Yeah, I knew I wasn’t going to win.” he replies, turning and smiling through his air of melancholy at her. He’s got charcoal in the same spot he did when they met.

“Well, you weren’t wrong...I won.” she replies, nearing him slowly. His face lights up at that.

“Congratulations… who was the portrait of?” he asks.

“You.” she confesses simply, and that pulls the heavy look he gave her in the rain out. “It felt right at the time...didn’t know your family was going to be judging.” she explains. “What happened?” she then asks.

“Snoke...he came to look over my work for the festival...he liked my portrait of you, wanted to keep it. I wouldn’t let him, and he destroyed it, threw me out of his agency, burned the canvas...So I drew a new one last night after he left...when you texted me. Everything else I’ve created, it felt fake, _pretentious_ , when compared to you.”

“Can I see the one your parents saw?” she asks, and he nods and pulls a small canvas from a stack of them. She looks exhausted, face lit oddly, almost as though— “You drew a portrait of me during our facetime?” she asks incredulously. “I look awful…”

“You don’t.” he insists, looking to it proudly. “Can I see the one you drew of me?” he asks.

“I sold it to your parents.” she admits, and that —for some reason—  makes him laugh.

“How much did you get?” he asks.

“Five hundred.” she replies.

“You should have asked for more.” he chuckles. A moment of silence passes between them.

“So do now not have an agent?” she asks.

“Yeah, pretty much.” he answers honestly.

“I’m kind of glad.” she admits.

“Why?” he asks.

“Snoke seemed like a creep.” she replies, and he bows his head in shame. She takes his hand, and he looks to her as though she had freed him.

In a way, she had.
    
    
      ****
    

The clouds that had been looming over the campus for the past few days finally open up, and Rey watches the rain for a moment before realizing what that meant.

“Fuck! Hey, will you come help save my booth?” she asks.

“Of course.” he replies as they run out of the art building, sprinting together to her and Finn’s booth, stacking as many paper sketches as they can under the sheet she had as possible. Rey watches him as he scurries about, keeping mud off of her work at all costs. She looks into his brown eyes as he holds her sheet-wrapped sketches to his chest. They’re clear and warm, even in the rain. She stands on his toes and presses her lips to his. His eyes shoot open in pleasant shock as she pulls away.

“But I lost…” he mutters in confusion. “I didn’t think you would— you were…”

“I did...I am” she replies simple, wet hair sticking to her face. “The rain clears things up, doesn’t it?”
    
    
      ****
    

He kisses her back.
    
    
      ****
    


End file.
